Whumptober 2019 - 21 - Laced Drink
by DinerGuy
Summary: 2018 reboot. Magnum's alone, disoriented, and injured. Oh, and trapped in a wrecked car. And he can't even remember how he got there in the first place.


_A/N: Standard disclaimers apply._

* * *

Thomas was down there.

Rick swallowed as he stood looking down the steep slope of the embankment. It was a long way down—too long. The darkness that hid what he knew was water at the bottom reached up toward the road as if threatening to swallow everything in its path.

Thankfully, the roof was up on the Ferrari, and Rick knew that was the only reason his friend was possibly still alive. Besides the closed top of the sportscar, the only other thing that even sort of made any of this better was also a very bad thing. The car rested about halfway down the slope, caught against a cluster of trees. Its bright red paint, clearly visible in the strobing lights of the rescue vehicles, showed how it had come to a rest at a sideways angle against the tree trunks, the driver's side facing the top of the embankment.

It was either a miracle or dumb luck, but Rick was grateful for whatever it was that had caused Thomas's car to run into the small grove rather than continue plummeting down the hill. He didn't want to think about the alternative.

A hand on his shoulder had him glancing over at T.C.

"Don't worry, bro," his friend said, although his tone contradicted his words. "Our boy's been through worse; he'll be okay."

* * *

Everything hurt.

And then he noticed the loud ringing in his ears, drowning everything else out. He couldn't hear past the nauseating buzzing sound that felt like someone was drilling into his brain.

He blinked his eyes open and squinted at the way everything blurred into a mix of bright colors. The light just made the ringing worse, and he gasped in a breath—which set his side on fire, which cranked up the volume on the buzzing, which set his head to pounding even more.

Squeezing his eyes shut again, he swallowed hard and tried to breathe as shallowly as possible.

Something was wrong; that much was obvious. That much he _knew, _but he just couldn't bring himself to focus long enough to figure out what.

Past the ringing in his ears, he could feel pain blossoming from his legs… from his chest… from his shoulder… It was as if the sensation was crawling its way up his body and into his head, adding to the feeling of absolute agony overtaking every part of him. He couldn't breathe, couldn't see, couldn't _think _past it.

A creaking sound reached him then, causing his brow to furrow in confusion. Where… where _was_ he? He didn't know, couldn't remember how he'd gotten… wherever he was. Everything seemed like such a blur, and his attempts to focus his thoughts resulted in a harsh pounding in the back of his head that threatened to send him reeling once again.

He swallowed and tried to gather the strength to open his eyes again, and he barely succeeded. Still unable to see straight past the way everything swam in front of him, he blinked and then coughed at the effort. The movement of his injured muscles caused them to seize up and send agonizing spirals of pain up into his head once again.

He coughed again, setting off a vicious chain reaction, an endless cycle of pain that tore at his chest and throat.

When it finally slowed, he felt himself slumping and realized he'd fallen to the side. Something pulled against his ribs, something else against his hip, but he still couldn't concentrate enough to make out what it was.

But that was okay, he decided as his eyes drifted closed. He could always figure it out later when he woke up again. A little voice in the back of his mind told him it was a very bad idea to let himself fall asleep when he was clearly injured, but he just couldn't bring himself to care.

The sounds above him grew louder, but, by the time the HFD rescue squad started breaking through the driver's side door, Magnum had slipped back into unconsciousness.

* * *

They broke just about every traffic law in existence on the way to the hospital, but none of them cared.

Rick and T.C. had sped after the ambulance, neither being allowed to ride along due to the seriousness of the situation.

Higgins and Kumu arrived at about the same time, both having been out when they'd gotten the news. Higgins had been attending a benefit on Robin's behalf when she'd gotten T.C.'s "911" text, while Kumu had just been leaving an event at the cultural center when Rick had called.

"How is he?" Higgins asked breathlessly, almost before she was close enough to fire off the questions without yelling across the waiting room. "What happened?"

"We haven't heard anything since they took him back," T.C. replied with a shake of his head.

Rick looked between the others. "We don't know exactly what happened. Thomas had called us on his way back from that client meeting, and then he started sounding really disoriented. He barely had time to tell us something was wrong and where he was before the line went dead." He swallowed and glanced at his shoes. "We called nine-one-one and got there as fast as we could, but… well, then we just had to wait for help to arrive."

A hand on his shoulder had him glancing up, and he met Kumu's sympathetic gaze.

"But you got him help," the older woman said gently. "Who knows what would have happened if you two hadn't been there."

They would find themselves waiting for what felt like an eternity, huddled in the stiff plastic chairs, for any sort of update from the medical team. When a doctor finally did come out to update them on Magnum's condition—broken ribs, concussion, fractured collarbone, and a whole collection of various cuts and abrasions, in addition to drugs coursing through his system that needed to be flushed out—they would all allow themselves a measure of relief.

But even still, it wouldn't be much.

Katsumoto joined them a few hours later, a grim but satisfied look on his face. "We made an arrest," he updated them, sinking into the empty chair next to Kumu. He looked tired, but no one commented on it. "The bartender," he offered simply.

"What on earth?" Higgins breathed the question they were all thinking.

"Turns out the woman working the bar where Magnum had his client meeting recognized him as a P.I. She was dealing drugs and assumed he was there for her, so she slipped something into his drink before serving him." The detective glanced around at the angry looks on the others' faces and rubbed the back of his neck. "Don't worry. She's already behind bars, and we've got solid evidence against her already. Between that and the doctors' report, she's going away for a long time."

When they were finally allowed to go in to see Magnum, it was with strict instructions not to disturb him. He was still unconscious, and the doctor couldn't say how long it would be before the patient woke up. In the meantime, all they could do was continue to wait.

* * *

When his eyes finally blinked open again, it took him a minute to figure out where he was. There was a ceiling over him, gray tiles so not the guest house…

And then all of the memories came flooding back, and he had to close his eyes against the way it set his head pounding.

"Thomas?" A quiet voice came from beside him. Rick.

He shifted, trying to convince himself to open his eyes. It would be so much easier to just ignore the voice and just give in to the temptation to fall back asleep. That would certainly be less work. Everything hurt, but less in the fiery way it had in his memories and more in a dull, muted way that told him he was in the hospital and on painkillers. When he shifted against his pillow, he had to clench his jaw at the way his stomach threatened to rebel.

There was a gentle hand on his arm then. "Hey, man, you're okay." Rick's voice came again.

With a small groan, Magnum managed to squint his eyes back open to look over at his friend. It took a minute for the world to come into focus, but, when it did, he saw Rick's worried face looking down at him.

"Hey. We were worried about you for a minute there."

Magnum frowned.

"Do you remember what happened?"

It took him a moment of concentration before everything came back to him. "I… crashed the car." He swallowed. "Higgy's gonna… kill me."

Rick shook his head with a grin. "From what we hear, it wasn't your fault. I'm pretty sure she doesn't blame you for it. _This _time," he added with a wink.

Huffing a tiny laugh, then wincing at the way it pulled at his side, Magnum raised an eyebrow. "What… how?"

"Apparently you were drugged," Rick supplied. "The bartender was worried you were onto her drug-dealing habits and took preemptive action."

Magnum made a face. He wanted to come up with a reply to that, but it was just too hard to concentrate. Just the few minutes of conversation had worn him out, and the exhaustion was quickly overtaking him.

Even as the door to his room creaked open and a doctor appeared just past Rick's shoulder, Magnum felt his eyes closing once again. And, this time, he didn't bother fighting it. He was safe, everything was okay now, and he knew his friends would still be there when he woke up.

* * *

_Fin._


End file.
